


Don't Fall in Love with a Straight Boy

by Veranik



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: "unrequited", Angst, Fluff, In which Bitty Jack slips under the Gaydar, M/M, Pies, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veranik/pseuds/Veranik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes are cold, his skin seems delicate, his hair is tousled but he's smiling- and good Lord does it warm up his whole face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fall in Love with a Straight Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This pretty much follows cannon, but through more of Bitty's perspective? Pretty much I just wanted to write the moment he realized he had fallen in love, so sorry if this is a little rocky! Most of the dialogue is from the comic, as well.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy at least!

The sun filtered down through the trees with ease, staining the ground in hues of gold and auburn. The trees with leaves like rainbows rustled in the wind, and Eric “Bitty” Bittle was strolling back to The Haus with an accomplished look on his face. He sure had some lovely bits of gossip and news for his vlog after all, and was already thinking about what sorts of pies to bake for the other boys tonight when he walked through the door.

At the ease of which he greeted and talked to everyone, it was hard to believe he had only been here for a little over a year. Among taller, broader, and typically more masculine men it was easy to see that Bitty was the odd one out, and even then he fit much like a glove and they were all his family as Ransom and Holster chirped at him for wearing a scarf.

 “ _Bro it’s not_ that _cold yet!_ ” they had chirped, and Bitty huffed with a mock pout and said something along the lines of this being comparable to a moderate winter back in Georgia, and that if it was so hot out he shouldn’t bake something for the night since fresh pie would _obviously_ be too hot to handle. It was enough to get them to stop, and a few more words passed before they laughed, and Bitty headed upstairs. Really— Bitty doubted such a friendly atmosphere could have existed before Samwell, and even then he felt lucky to call this one _his_.

He passed by Jack’s door with a dreamy sigh as he turned into his own room, tossing his coat and scarf into his closet hastily and took a “Food & US History” text book from out of his bag, tossing that onto his bed. Still thinking over the Haus and Samwell dreamily, Bittle set to work on setting up his vlogging equipment and rolled up the sleeves on his white button up shirt, double checking everything was working correctly before grabbing the book from his bed, sitting on his chair with one leg crossed over the other, and hitting record.

“Hello Bittle’s Birdies! Welcome back, now, since y’all tune in to hear _exclusive_ baking tips and my adventures in hockey, I don’t talk much about school. But this semester I worked my way into a senior history seminar: _Hist376, Women, Food, and American Culture_. And guess who’s one of my classmates? Three clues: he is French-Canadian, lives ‘cross the hall, and draws hockey plays in his notes.” He began, lifting his hand as he counted off the different ways to describe Jack to his audience members. He hardly noticed the way his smile grew as he thought of the blue eyed, black haired hockey robot, sighing a little before moving on.

“That’s right! Jack Zimmermann folks— and he wasn’t surprised I had managed to… _find a way_ into a class about food. Bribery is such an ugly word!” the blond said with a laugh as he thought of the proper way to describe it, scrunching up his nose as he dodged using the word bribery. In actuality, he had used one of Meemaw’s signature recipes as a gift for Prof. Atley, the teacher for the course… and well, no one had said no to one of his pies yet. Bitty cleared his throat and smiled back at the camera.

“Part of our final grade is creating a dish from a historically accurate recipe, so luckily for Jack… I don’t mind helping him out. If he can play hockey he can cook, right ladies and gents? You’ll have to wait for the end of the semester before you can hear how well he can cook though! Now then, onto what you’re all actually wanting to hear— I found some _delightful_ lil’ recipes for muffin tins the other day!” Bitty droned on, animatedly talking for the duration of time he usually did for his vlogs. By the time he finished, he moved on to cleaning it up and seeing if any sort of editing needed to have been done, tossing the text book back onto his bed and leaning into his laptop screen. The only reason he was really pulled away from what he was doing was the sound of Ransom and Holster banging their way up the staircase chanting “We want pie! We want pie!” over and over again in unison.

“Those boys…” Bity said with a chuckle, saving his progress and getting off his chair with a small stretch, pulling open the door with a loud laugh. “Now hold on! Mewing cats don’t catch any mice and you’ll get you knickers in a knot before I can even crack an egg into the mixing bowl—“ he began with another laugh, and they all made their way downstairs for Bitty to get to work.

* * *

Bitty sat down on the chair in his room with a dull thump, unaware of the dreamy look on his face or the way his pale, freckled cheeks seemed a little more rosy than normal. His eyes cast off into the distance, but he had set up his recording equipment— and if the little blinking light was of any indication, he was _definitely_ recording.

“Hey y’all,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he cupped his head in his hand, turning to look at the camera. “Classes have been going fine, and the Haus has been in good shape— now, some of y’all were asking me how the history class was going… so this is gonna be a special lil’ update dedicated to that!” He still seemed dreamy, but at least he was working his way back to the modern world. But his eyes still seemed partially clouded by some sort of memory that he was urging himself to talk about.

“Spending two and a half hours with Jack in a place that isn’t the rink has been… different,” he said with another tiny sigh, closing his eyes before he sat upright. “Not in a bad way, though! Don’t get me wrong. It’s just that he always looks so focused when the teacher is talking, but really he’s doodlin’ lil’ hockey plays in his notes. Sometimes its logos, or sometimes small things that don’t make much sense to me, but he still gets the gist of the class.”  Bitty began, closing his eyes as he spoke. He was picturing Jack beside him in the seminar, his black hair lightly tousled over his forehead, his bright blue eyes glancing up and down from his paper to the professor. He seemed so intent on the history aspect of it all, and partly lost when it came to cooking, but sometimes he would turn to Bittle and they would make casual conversation. Jack would ask a question about baking, Bitty would go on and on until he got it, and a soft ‘oh’ was usually Jack’s response.

Then of course, there were the times where Jack would be with him in the Haus kitchen while everyone else was gone, his laptop opened up as they followed a recipe. They’d talk, and much to Bittle’s surprise, even chirp at one another as he started to understand there was more to Jack than hockey. He had the inkling that was a possibility for the longest time now, but while he took this class alongside Jack? The thought became resolute in his mind.

“His hands are strong but clumsy when it comes to pie crusts, and I swear that boy doesn’t know his own size as he bumps into me while we cook!” Another sigh, and Bitty opened his eyes having realized they had been closed that whole time. He had been rambling on as was evident on the timestamp, most likely about the class and on Jack and how big of a doofus he was.

“He’s got his own charm to him though; I suppose that makes up for more than one less than pretty pie. T’ill next time, Birdies!” Bitty said signing off, sighing once more. He still hadn’t noticed the blush that crept its way to his cheeks, not even as he was editing the video. To the viewers that watched when it was posted however, they quietly communed amongst themselves over how his cheeks flushed deeper than before when he had rambled on about Jack, sometimes straying off topic.

* * *

Fall continued to progress at a leisurely pace, and Bittle found himself looking forward to Woman’s history more and more with each passing day. And with each passing day, it got closer and closer to the time where Bitty would get to cook with Jack for a solid amount of time— just the two of them. How many times he had brought up the importance of not being disturbed so their project would turn out amazing, he wasn’t sure— but Bitty knew enough to know that the other Haus members were sure to be distant if not gone on the baking day. Shitty had coined the term “The Abakening”, to which Ransom and Holster adopted with delight, and to Bitty’s annoyance used to chirp at him. It all faded into a haze of memories that he’d reluctantly return too at the end of the day anyways, as for a solid two and a half hours each day, he got to spend it with Jack.

Two and a half hours of looking at his tousled hair, his eyes, and his _arms_ oh Lordy what a sight they were! He’d absentmindedly doodle on his own notes of small flowers with petals shaped liked hearts, or of stick figure caricatures. He’d pay _just_ enough attention to not get in trouble, but oh how his dark eyes wandered over to look at Jack sitting next to him. For a moment, Bitty realized he’d want to be even closer, their thighs touching, or a potential elbow bump- but that was simply ludicrous.

And to the days reaching up to where he and Jack were going to bake together, the thoughts only grew more frequent and much, _much_ stronger.

At long last the day of the ‘Abakening’ had arrived and the Haus was more desolate than it had ever been. He and Jack walked back together after stopping to get coffee, and Bitty huddled into his scarf with a smile when Jack held the door open for him. It didn’t take long to get ready— Jack was a go to and get ‘er done type of guy, despite being awkward and fumbling around at certain times. It was annoying at sometimes, oddly adorable at others, and always a distraction for Bitty’s wandering mind. But if Jack could be called a hocky robot, it was no exaggeration to call Bitty a cooking robot— except instead of robot the term ‘storm’ might have been more appropriate. A looming presence that spat out things at a ridiculous space and best to be let alone except for the brave few? Sounded right to him.

“Jack Zimmermann, your apron.” He had presented, handing the white fabric over to the taller man, looking up at him expectantly. Jack grabbed it, looked down, and then looked back at Bitty with one raised eye.

“How come you’re not wearing one?” he inquired.

“I’m not wearing this since I’ve been cooking pretty much straight out of the womb! Not a lick of ingredients has landed on me since the 5th grade mister,” he chirped right on back, huffing with a playful atmosphere around him as he turned back to the counter, feeling Jack’s cold eyes on the back of his neck as he flipped the pages in the cookbook to the pie recipe they were going to bake together.

_Together_. Bittle thought to himself, and flushed ever so slightly. The kitchen was rather… cramped, after all, and an accidental touch could happen. _Or a touch made to_ look _accidental,_ he thought to himself, swiftly shaking such a realization away. Whatever happened would be accidental entirely, he promised himself that. But as they got to work, the mood shifted compared to the usual, and he and Jack talked and chirped. Bitty asked him questions about hockey as his hands kneaded dough and Bitty put together the paste that would go inside. Jack would ask him about recipes, and Georgia, and Bitty always had a story to go along with it. He’d look over his shoulder and watch Jack work, sometimes catching the faintest of smiles as he spoke, and other times he’d meet Jack’s blue eyes staring right back at him. On those instances Bitty would turn back around supressing a startled ‘eep’, and they’d continue on right as normal until it got time to dress the pie. Bitty allowed Jack to do the honours while he beat the eggs for the wash.

“Bittle, I’m messing up your project. Look at this. It’s awful…” Jack spoke after a while, and Bitty had yet to turn around. He heaved a small sigh, smiling in spite of himself— Jack was always anxious over how he was doing, he had noticed, and he had no problem in delivering assurance that everything was fine. Besides, even if it was a little… _crooked_ to say the least, it was never as bad as Jack thought it was.

“Oh _stop it_ ,” he commented. ”I’m sure it’s great. Lemme see—“ he stopped what he was doing, grabbing the bag of floor and turned to pivot around.

“I have no idea why you’re trusting me with this. Look—“ Jack commented back, and Bitty didn’t see him pick the pie up with his gentle, firm grip to bring it to him to show him. They met half way, Bittle with a bag of flour in his grip, and Jack with the pie high in the air above his head. Their chests bumped together, and Bitty cast his eyes skyward to look at Jack who had looked back down at him.

“Oh- excuse me,”

“Pardon me,”

They chimed at the same time, staying that way for a moment in silence. Bitty was positive his eyes were wide and the heat in his cheeks told him enough to know he was blushing. Not majorly, but it was enough. He blinked his eyes a few times, they had been in silence long enough, and flustered Bitty retorted back as he knocked Jack with his elbow.

“E-excuse you, but my kitchen is _no_ place for checking!” he huffed, averting his gaze.

“…your kitchen?” Jack chirped back, his gaze becoming mischievous as he quirked a brow. Bitty turned back to look at him to notice his blue eyes had never left his face, and Bitty huffed. He nudged Jack again, glancing down.

“Well, _the_ kitchen! Now move your big… uhm,” he began, becoming flustered again as he realized what he was saying, and still in such close proximity to Jack! His flush deepened, and he knew he had to get out of the situation fast as his heart fluttered. _Your big butt,_ he had wanted to say, and inwardly he squeaked at the thought. Jack had a _real_ nice ass, that was for sure, Bitty had always admired from afar- but no, no he couldn’t say that.

“My big…?” Jack chirped back, and Bitty swore he looked even cheekier than before. Flustered Bitty pouted before moving out of the way, throwing some flour in Jack’s direction, the powder getting all over his tousled black hair, chiselled jaw line, apron and shirt. Bitty had to keep himself turned away from the situation in fear of his blush worsening.

“I was asking about your professional hockey career, Mr. Zimmermann.” He responded tartly, leaving himself by the sink with the flour on the table as he began to wash dishes to clear his mind. Jack didn’t seem to mind, taking the pie and bringing it next to Bitty to work on it while now under Bitty’s gaze. Bitty felt a wave of relief wash over him as Jack didn’t press further, and instead, jumped into the other thing he was quite passionate about, and able to drone on forever. While he was talking, Bitty snuck a sidelong glance.

There was Jack less than a few feet away from him. Through the window, he had a golden glow about his skin, and his icy eyes seemed warm and pleasant, closed partially from the way he smiled. White powder dusted his delicate looking skin, and remained intertwined with his dark hair, and Bitty’s eyes traced the shape of his jawbone, the way the flour rested on his face, how he craned his neck to look at the recipe book. Bitty found himself looking at his lips.

Luscious, full, pink— they moved as he spoke, but Bitty found himself unable to listen. He was mesmerized by Jack, fully and unconditionally, and it surprised him.

He forced his eyes away from Jack and brought his hands to do the dishes, his cheeks flushed, his heart dancing in his chest. Bitty was hit with the realization that he was _in love_ with Jack Zimmermann- the same Jack who had shunned him when everyone else accepted him. The same Jack who was awkward and tall and seemed so distant from everyone. The same Jack he was standing next to, near enough to brush his arm against his, and Bitty wanted to hold his hand.

He wanted to kiss him, and feel those lips against his.

He wanted to scream.

For the remainder of their project they worked in companionable silence with the occasional conversation breaking through, but Bitty’s heart ached with realization and loss all in one, and when Jack finally left to go and do something else ( he wasn’t going to remain inside the Haus, thank God ) Bitty quickly cleaned and then hurried himself upstairs and into his room to be left alone.

He still had flour on his hands.

It didn’t stop him from setting up the vlogging equipment, and he sat down, recording, his hair tousled, flour covering his hands, and getting into his hair and on his shirt as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“So hey, y’all! Back again with a new vlog!!” he began, trying his best to sound as cheery as possible. But his cheeks were still rosy, his eyes were watery. Bitty continued on.

“Now, for a while, some of you have been asking about my love life… and for advice… why you _would_ is beyond me.” Bitty looked off to the side, running his flour covered hand through his hair once more, ruffling it. “I don’t have much advice because. Well. I’ve never had much of a love life.” The truth came out shaky, Bitty took a deep breath. He turned back to the camera with another shaky smile, his eyes were definitely watery by this point— they gleamed in the light, looking as if he was about ready to cry.

“…But I will say this. If you’re in a position like mine, where… you know. And this is something I should’ve learned a long time ago.” Bittle’s voice cracked by this point, and he closed in and up on himself. He turned his face away from the camera and cupped it in his hands, hiding his eyes as his shoulders shook. Wet drops fell from his eyes and streaked the flour that clung to his face, but he still forced a smile upon himself even as he kept himself away. He was filled with the warmth of knowing he was in love, and knowing he could still see Jack, but he was pained. Pained because… well…

“Never fall in love with a straight boy.”


End file.
